Want to strengthen your critical thinking skills? Write!

My profession of qualitative research, like many others, demands critical thinking. The ability to internalize data and apply it to a client’s business objectives is a foundational skill for qualitative researchers.

Is there a more fundamental skill than critical thinking? I can’t think of one. It’s tops on my list of three essential cognitive skills:

• Critical thinking

• Decision making

• Problem solving

These skills are key building blocks of success, and I plan to write more about them in upcoming posts.

If we’re going to talk about critical thinking, it’s worthwhile to define the term. I see critical thinking as encompassing three sub-skills:

Data gathering – pulling together and summarizing everything you know about a specific situation or topic.

Data assessment – evaluating information quality. This is the point at which critical thinking often breaks down. I do a lot of research in health and nutrition. Much of the data supporting nutrition claims is of dismal quality. That it’s the basis for recommendations about what we should eat may be why we are in the midst of an epidemic of chronic disease. The ability to vet information is crucial to forming valid conclusions.

Inference – understanding the potential implications of the data. What does it mean, and what, therefore, might you do?

Unless your name is Albert Einstein, you’re probably not as good at critical thinking as you could be. So, how do you get better at this crucial skill?

Write! Writing isn’t easy, which is why many of us avoid it. As historian David McCullough used to say, “Writing is thinking. To write well is to think clearly. That’s why it’s so hard.” So, when you write something out, you’re giving yourself no option but to think it through.

Writing offers some irreplaceable benefits:

It compels disciplined thinking. When you put something on paper and then read it back, if your thinking isn’t clear and logical, that will be immediately apparent.

It helps you break your analysis into manageable parts. Because we write in sentences and paragraphs, writing naturally leads you to organize your thinking.

It requires you to assess your evidence. When you match each claim you make with the data that supports it, you can see if your premise is adequately supported.

It leads you to think about implications. When you get to that concluding sentence or paragraph, it’s natural to summarize what it all means and maybe even come up with solutions and recommendations.

So, to strengthen your critical thinking, write! Write something every day. If you’re thinking about current events – or a decision you have to make – that’s the time to pick up your pen. It will help you think things through and come to better decisions.

After all, that’s one reason I write this monthly newsletter. It helps me hone my own thinking about topics that are important to me.

It’s easy. Just add fear.

There is no problem that’s so bad that you can’t make it even worse. I’ve found that fear is a great way to do that.

Don’t get me wrong; fear is a normal and healthy thing. It’s an evolved trait – the fight-or-flight response – and it wouldn’t have emerged and stuck around over 800 million years of animal evolution if it weren’t useful. But today we live in a different environment than the one in which our species evolved, and sometimes modern environmental factors don’t mesh with ancient instincts.

When fear gets out of control, bad things happen – panic, reckless decisions, freezing up, people exploiting those fears. The list goes on. People become angry, and look to place blame. This phenomenon was fully on display during the Covid pandemic. Irrational fears clearly made some aspects of this situation worse, and unscrupulous people exploited those fears.

I certainly see this as a qualitative researcher. When I interview research participants about emotionally loaded topics, such as healthcare, children, politics, or their financial situations, they sometimes seem overwhelmed with fear.

Often this fear seems to be triggered and stoked by information they get from cable news and social media – two of those modern environmental factors. I usually make a point of digging into those fears, as that can lead to important insights, but that’s a topic for a future newsletter.

Another example: I’m always a bit of a nervous wreck before I start a qualitative study. Always. This might be due to a legitimate reason – it’s a new topic for me or a new client, or maybe there’s dysfunction among the research team. In other words, there are real risks at play. In that case, I’ll think about how to prepare, and devise strategies for dealing with the risks.

But, if there’s no identifiable reason for being nervous, I just remind myself that I’m always anxious before starting a project, and not to worry about that too much. It’s normal, and natural, and it’s my friend – it keeps me sharp.

FDR got it right in 1933 – “we have nothing to fear but fear itself.” I frequently remind myself not to be afraid of being afraid. I also try to remember not to confuse fear with anxiety. They’re closely related, but definitely not the same thing. Fear is a natural, human response. Respect it and use it, but keep it in its place.

Once upon a time, you and I might have had a conversation like this:

     You: “Well, obviously, the world is flat.”

     Me: “Of course it is. Just look around you!”

     You: “I mean, it’s just common sense!”

To us, this conversation would have sounded rational, with your use of ‘common sense’ seeming entirely appropriate. Nowadays, it just looks silly.

I was once interviewing dieticians for a qualitative research study on children’s health. When a participant said, “a good breakfast is essential to a child’s health,” I asked her how she knew that. After some back-and-forth, during which she was unable to cite evidence, she snapped, “for God’s sake, it’s common sense! Everybody knows this!”

And that’s the problem with ‘common sense.’ It’s a term that can make something seem rational and correct, even when it might be neither.

I once wrote a post on being skeptical of intuition, and those principles apply here. Common sense can be useful, but can also lead you astray. Here’s why you should be skeptical of common sense, whether it’s your own or somebody else’s.

The term has a broad range of meanings:

Practical wisdom. Knowledge of how the world works gained through everyday experiences, leading to better problem-solving and decision-making. In other words, street-smarts.

Intuitive understanding. A grasp of basic truths without the need for topic-specific knowledge or education.

Sound judgement. An ability to assess situations based on critical thinking and sensible reasoning.

Cultural norms. Shared values and beliefs within a specific society, creating unwritten rules and expectations governing behavior.

And, its meaning can be difficult to pin down because:

It’s heavily influenced by culture. Members of an ethnic or religious community might see certain moral principles as common sense, while outsiders might consider them bizarre.

It’s subjective. My common sense could be your nonsense. Common sense is informed by pre-existing biases and assumptions. Also, if you hear something frequently enough, it could start to make sense, no matter how crazy it might be.

It’s less reliable in complex or highly technical situations. If you’re fixing a screen door, common sense can help, particularly if you’ve done it before. But, in the control room of a nuclear plant, common sense alone isn’t going to be enough.

This is not to say that common sense is of no value. It can be reliable, particularly with familiar and straightforward matters. However, in complicated and unfamiliar situations, common sense could lead to errors or misconceptions. Common sense might tell you that you’re healthy, as you look and feel okay. But lab results might say otherwise.

Common sense can be where your assessment of a situation begins, but probably shouldn’t be where it ends. It’s important to seek reliable evidence to support our conclusions. Ultimately facts – not gut feeling – must carry the day.

“Show me the incentive, I’ll show you the outcome.”

I was speaking with a qualitative research recruiter at the recent QRCA conference in Denver about the role monetary incentives play in qualitative recruiting. She said, “Look, you have to pay participants so they feel that their time is being valued – they won’t participate otherwise. But that’s not the main reason most of them do it.” She went on to say that people are primarily motivated to participate in qualitative because they think it sounds fun and interesting, and because they genuinely want to help.

This conversation made me think of Charlie Munger – the longtime investor and vice-chairman of Berkshire Hathaway quoted above – who passed away recently at the tender age of 99. He was a savvy businessman who had a way with words. His famous remark that I quote above about incentives and outcomes is a foundational principle: if you see something as being in your interest, you’re likely to do it, even if it conflicts with your own moral compass.

When I worked in brand management, I marveled at the ability of our salespeople to play the company’s bonus program like a piano. They found no end of ingenious schemes to maximize their bonuses, even if they weren’t actually good for the business. The problem – the company’s performance incentives weren’t aligned with the ultimate desired outcome (bottom line profitability) but with an interim metric (unit volume).

Incentives strongly influence our decisions and actions. They’re one of those powerful tools I was thinking about when I wrote a recent and popular post. They can be instrumental in achieving goals. But, if you’re not careful, they can have disastrous, unintended consequences – like salespeople selling product at a loss to make their bonus target.

One of the reasons we conduct qualitative research is to understand how incentives drive consumer motivations and influence decision-making. It’s important to realize that incentives create biases. So, using qualitative tools to identify and understand incentives and biases can help us to understand opinions and behaviors.

This principle applies to qualitative in another important way. How we interact with research participants – specifically, how we provide affirmation during conversation – can lead to honesty and respectful participation. In other words, if we make participants feel good about themselves for being candid, we’ll incentivize that behavior. If, on the other hand, through body language, tone of voice and facial expressions, we encourage them to tell us what they think we want to hear, that’s probably what they’re going to do.

So, whether you’re a qualitative researcher or not, it pays to be aware of incentives. They can often be the hidden factor driving decisions and actions.

During 2023, I conducted several research studies that involved interviewing participants with serious medical conditions.

Research such as this isn’t easy. Participants can be depressed and distracted, and might be lonely and in pain. They tend to view these interviews, not unreasonably, as an opportunity to unburden themselves to a sympathetic stranger.

These conversations can be emotional and intense. I’ve had participants tell me things they have never said to anybody else. A day of this type of work is tiring, and a week is thoroughly exhausting – with the experience leaving you physically and mentally spent. In fact, if you don’t feel that way after several days of this, you’re probably doing it wrong.

At times like this, it’s easy to focus on the load you’re carrying – serving as an interlocutor between patient and client, as a source of insight to the client, and as a confessor and confidant to the patient. This is a hard set of roles to play, and it’s easy to feel overwhelmed.

However, it’s important to remember that conducting such research is a privilege. A privilege for clients to trust you with their research. A privilege that participants are willing to make themselves vulnerable to you.

The thing is, burden and privilege are two sides of the same coin – you can’t have one without the other. This principle applies to most aspects of our lives. Nursing a loved one through a period of infirmity is both a burden and a privilege. Every civil right enumerated in the Bill of Rights to the US Constitution carries a corresponding responsibility.

Just think about free speech – one of the fundamentals of a free society. You only need to spend a little time on social media to see what happens when this privilege is abused. Participating responsibly on social media platforms can feel onerous, but it’s part of the bargain.

Anytime you shoulder a burden, it means that somebody is trusting and depending upon you. In qualitative research – as in any consultative field – trust is essential to doing your job.  If clients and participants don’t trust you, there isn’t much you can accomplish. So, the ability to earn trust is a key factor that separates experienced, professional practitioners from beginners and amateurs.

So, when facing a burdensome responsibility, ask yourself why you should feel fortunate  – and find the privilege contained within.